Pete Wisdom: snapshots
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: 15 short story for the 15 generes, 1 prompt, 1 month community on lj, all dealing with the concept of aftermath , from the K to the M rated. 2:She looked at him in the eyes, and asks him if he ever thought if maybe they picked the wrong side to fight for.
1. Angst: Repetition

Notes: This collection of 15 short-stories is part of my contribution to the 15 genres, 1Prompt, 1 month on livejournal, connected, in my case, to the Excalibur Fandom, with special focus on Pete Wisdom, and pormt aftermath; few of them will be set in my Blackdragon Universe, others will more canon.

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><p>Title: Repetition<br>Author: Little Firestar  
>Rating: M<br>Fandom: Excalibur (Marvel Universe)  
>Characters: Pete WisdomChristine Stark [OC]  
>Summary: Every Night, it's the same thing. She'll allow him to take her, and then she'll leave. He hopes that one day she'll stay, and will allow him to love her as much as she deserves. One day- but not today.<br>Spoilers: None  
>Genre: Angst (with an erotic twist)<br>Notes: due to the presence of Christine Stark, it obviously takes place is my Blackdragon Universe (see journal), around the time Wisdom faked his death while training X-Force (issues #105-110).

The aftermath kills him every time, but still, he keeps doing it –he keeps ending up in her bed, day after day, and he doesn't even know why. Does he thinks that she'll suddenly change her mind about what she merely acknowledges like an affair, or is he simply a masochist, trying, even after so many years, to punish himself for all the death that he had brought upon the world?

He doesn't know, and he hates. He hates it because he is Peter Paul Bloody Wisdom and he knows things. It's what he does, and he is what he does.

Christine sits on the bed, and slowly but methodically she buttons up her blouse, and he keeps staring at her back, unable to say a single word, even if he would like to. He would like to ask her to stay, to change her mind, but he will not. Because he never begs, and maybe...

He wonders if he isn't asking because he is scared that she could say yes, because if she would say yes... but then, he grins between himself, because she would never say yes, as much as she wants to – there's too much between them and their "happiness" (not that people like them could actually be happy), and besides, they know that., deep down, they are too different to actually work out in the long run: he is a spy and a killer, she is a scientist and a member of the X-Men; he has responsibilities towards his Country, and she does towards her family (surrogate and real); he is cynic, while she still believes in Charles Xavier's dream; he doesn't want a family, isn't even looking for one, and... and she is married. She has Alec, and that will never change.

Oh, he knows what she says, what she keeps saying. She tells everybody that it's over, that they are getting divorced and that this time is for real. He wonders if she still believes it, after so many times she has told this lie – this story, at least – at loud. Because this is what it is, a story. Doesn't matter what he did this time, every time it's the same story. Alec is the one breaking up, someone puts the pieces back together (her friends- Kitty, Rachel, Kurt, Amanda, Meggan, with her empathic abilities, Brian or even Clint, so close to her he has always been jealous of the archer), then Alec comes back begging for mercy and forgiveness, lying between his teeth and telling her he is oh, so sorry, and that's never gonna happen, ever again, and she agrees to take him back. Because he is her husband, because it's her fault as well, and because... doesn't matter why. At the end, she just does it. Every. Bloody. Time.

He knows she should do better than him, and he knows he doesn't deserve her, but still... it's not enough, not any longer, and he is sick and tired of this stupid game of theirs.

Standing at her back, he grabs her hands, stopping her from progressing furthermore into buttoning up her shirt; his lips find her neck, devouring it with angry kisses and bites, nothing slow or tender about it, and even if Christine knows she should stop him, put an end to this torrid affair once and for all, instead, she offers him better access to her neck, and moaning, grabs an handful of his boxers while he tears apart without any care the blouse, like he does as well with the underwear.

Pete is being... wild, and angry, but she isn't scared- a part of her thinks she should – because she knows this man. Despite all his faults, Peter Paul Wisdom is a good man. He would never force her – or nay other woman - to do anything she wouldn't do, and besides...It's not like she isn't agreeing with it. She is just liking letting him to lead for once.

She doesn't know how or when, but suddenly she is again on the bed, her back on the mattress that's still warm after hours of indulging in sex (because she'll never say they make love, they aren't making love, they are having sex and that's all that will ever be for them because there are just too many things getting in their way, and besides, it's not like they still believe in happily ever after with everything they've gone through), completely naked, with Pete kneeing between her spread legs, hard and erect, one if his hands keeping her writs in place, impending her any movement – and any possible escape.

Not that she would.

While he nudges her core teasingly with his length, he penetrates her with two fingers without preliminaries, going at it with force and strength and velocity and not giving a damn about her own comfort; she arches beneath him gasping in surprise, and he tries to use this at his advantage to kiss her, really kiss her, fully, on the lips – she has never allowed him this pleasure, never has Christine allowed their tongues to battle for dominance, claiming it was intimate, more intimate than sex, and they were, are just... not even friends with benefits (because they are not exactly friends) but just fuck buddies.

He tries to kiss her. And yet again, he fails, because she moves her face enough to allow his lips to fall on her cheek.

He clenches his teeth, prone to thinking that's always gonna be this way between them, and, at closed eyes, he bites her lobe as he penetrates her. he enters he to the hilt in one single movement, putting there all the passion and desire and lust and desperation and rage and yes, maybe even love. She gasps, and arches beneath him, already pushing her body against his, already asking for more. He hides his face between her breasts- full, round, slightly bigger than her frame should suggest, but completely natural - and starts to moves on top of her, hard, quick, strong, forceful, sending her soon into orgasm, already tightening around him.

As Pete struggles to keep control and resist the urge of letting it go along with her, she doesn't even try to meet his frantic movements; Christine merely clasps her calves around his body, massaging the back of his legs with her feet - small,, so, so small, like the ones of a Chinese woman, and extremely erotic and arousing. She allows him to do as he likes, giving him free reign on her body (but not her lips, never her lips, ever) and when, after having emptied himself into her body, he collapses on top of her body, for once, she doesn't stop him, doesn't move him away.

The weight of his body on top of hers it's new – she is usually the one on top, with all her control issues – but, somehow, it's welcome. Which, scares her like nothing before. And she has seen a couple of pretty awful things in her young life as a super-hero. God, why wanting this man is scarier than having to face Erik or En Sabah Nur?

Self-preservation kicks in once again, and she forces him away from her body, and when he tries to stops her once again, she just stands; she doesn't look at him, though, isn't able to. She takes a couple of steps, and gets dressed (tries to, at least, with her clothes being ruined because of him), without saying a word, fighting back traitor tears, tears that would tell the man exactly what she feels for him, something that she shouldn't, something that she doesn't know if she is allowed to feel to begin with.

Naked, he stands, and joins her, taking to stop her, wishing for things to be different, wishing for her to stay this time, but she merely shakes her head, embracing herself. No she'd like to tell him, but there's no need to- he already knows her answer.

Like he knows this game of theirs. He knows she'll eventually be back, and he knows that he'll take her back – into his life, into his bed - without even having to contemplate it. Because, despite his words, despite everything they've been through, despite knowing that she is too much for him, he can't help but wanting her, in his life, as a permanent fixture, but, if spending the nights surrounded by bliss and being heartbroken every morning is the only way to have her, so be it.

It will be enough, she'll be worth the pain, she is worth the pain. And, maybe, one day, he wonders, she'll get it. Maybe, on day, she'll decide to stay after the passion, to cuddle him and kiss him on the lips first thing in the morning.

One day. But not today.


	2. Political: Broken Dream

Notes: This collection of 15 short-stories is part of my contribution to the 15 genres, 1Prompt, 1 month on livejournal, connected, in my case, to the Excalibur Fandom, with special focus on Pete Wisdom, and pormt aftermath; few of them will be set in my Blackdragon Universe, others will more canon.

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><p>Title: Broken Dream<br>Rating: T  
>Fandom: Excalibur (Marvel Universe)<br>Characters: Pete Wisdom/Christine Stark [OC]  
>Summary: "Xavier sent us to fight for a world that fears and hates us, and since he founded the school, so many of us died to protect humanity, and at what price? What changed? Why do we keep doing what we do, when we just don't get anything in return?"<br>Spoilers: None  
>Genre: Political (well… Marvel Comic Political, at least)Notes: mentions of the Days of future and Messiah Complex story-lines, but no specific knowledge needed; set, again, in the Blackdragon Universe.<p>

The scenery that welcomes Wisdom as soon freezes his blood into his veins, and he can't help but cringing; ruins everywhere, flames embracing what used to be called civilizations, death machines, like from some futuristic movies, running through the streets of London, hunting down everyone, doesn't matter if they are mutants or plain humans, taking them, and, in few cases, even killing their targets.

For a second, he wonders if this is how London- and Britain – used to be during World War II, but then, he pushes the thought aside, a silly thought. This is nothing like Word War II, because, simply, this is something that has never happened before.

This is the end of the world, and not simply "the end of the world as we know it" like teenagers like to define what they think should be an epochal change, but it's really the end of the world.

Of course, he isn't been there, but he knows people that did, people that lived there and came back to warn them of this or that… or maybe, this has nothing to do with the end of the world, maybe, at the end, they did it, changed history enough to preserve humanity and the planet altogether, damning, though, their race in the end.

He takes a couple of tentative steps towards the woman standing in from of him, and even given the circumstances, he can't help but feeling lost in her, drinking into her very presence, every time like it was the first time, or like he had gone for too long without being unable to see her, hold her- even if, like now, it has been just few hours.

She is embracing herself, lost into the destruction that she can't avoid, can't stop, and even if he can't see her eyes, he is imagining them, teary, sad, almost closed, dark and stormy, and he feels the sudden need to protect her, even if he can't do anything for this and she doesn't, never did, need protection, not from him nor anyone.

She shivers when he embraces her from behind, freezing on the spot, and Pete would like to grin in the mass of reddish rebellious hair, because he just surprised Christine Antoinette Stark, one of World's most powerful telepaths, but he can't, not with everything taking place in front of them. This is not the place, nor the time.  
>Green and black lines and dots series of zeros and ones suddenly appears in front of them, taking the place of the post-apocalyptic scenario, and they are not any longer in the streets of London, but back at Excalibur HQ, inside a big, almost immense, white room- the danger room.<p>

He'll never get used to this, it was so real, and even if he knew, he still does, that it was just a lie, a solid, 3-D hologram generated by an alien AI, programmed to make it as real as it gets, he is still… he doesn't know how to vocalize his feelings. It didn't look like the end of the world. It felt like the end of the world. It was the end of the world.  
>Christine frees herself from the embrace, and leans against a wall, looking at the hand – Pete's hand – strongly but yet calmly massaging the skin left uncovered by her Kevlar uniform, the one a long time ago Jean Grey gave her, just few weeks before the redhead died to save the world from a crazy Magneto wonnabe.<p>

"Have you ever considered that maybe he is right? That, maybe, we pick the wrong side to fight for?" The words leave her mouth before she could actually think them- and maybe she didn't tell them at all, Pete acknowledges, maybe he just heard them because of their psychic bond, the mental proof of their feeling for each other. Because he doesn't need to ask her to explain herself furthermore- he already knows where this is going, and what she is exactly talking about, and, moreover, whom.  
>He takes a big breath, and looks at her, really looks at her, waiting for her to go on.<br>"Because… Eric, he told… I remember when he told me…." she closes her eyes, massaging the bridge of her nose, stopping, like she couldn't voice her own feelings, her won fears, like she would like to. "This world, it's few billions years old, and in just a couple of centuries the Homo Sapiens has been able to create an environment that will able to sustain the human race for less than half that time. It's the Homo sapiens who invented war and wrote manuals about torture. Humanity is the only animal who takes pleasure upon inflicting sufferance on others, and sometimes, I can't help but ask me if it's worth it. Because I remember when Eric told me that he just wanted to make this world beautiful and perfect, and raise healthy grandchildren who could breathe unpolluted air."

He doesn't talk, but keeps looking at her, waiting for her to go on, because he knows her, and he knows there's more. There's always more when she is concerned, especially in moments like this, when she feels more than the usual the pressure of having been, even for a small amount of time, two people at once, of having been through both sides of the coin, having lived in Eric's world, where Homo Sapiens Superior reigns supreme, while, at the same time, her heart and soul kept believing into what Xavier thought her, the dream he instilled in her, the hope for a better tomorrow, where mutants where's hated or feared, but could live in peace and harmony with every other human being.

"This was the end of the world. In less than a century, humanity will produce on mass-scale sentinels to hunt down mutants, and when we'll be all either dead or secluded into camps, they'll systematically kill every being that could threaten their dominion; another century, two on tops, and no living being will walk the Earth. This is the world Eric wanted to avoid, and yet, fighting him, we may have just doomed everything and everyone on this planet."  
>His eyes turn from blue to almost black out of sadness; this isn't the woman he has fallen in love with, this isn't his Chris; she shouldn't be so cynical, shouldn't believe in the words of a terrorist, he should be the one without any emotion left and Chris should do anything in her power to make sure that this world will never happen and that Xavier's dream will come true.<p>

He takes a big breath, as other hand cups her cheek, while he keeps massaging her shoulder. He leans over her, not a threatening presence but a welcomed one, making her feel secure and cared for, something she hasn't felt so many times in her life, something that, after the turmoil she just fell victim to, she really needs.

"There was a world, where Charles Xavier never founded the X-Men, and even if mutants ruled there, it was still on the brim of destruction" he lifts her chin while he talks about that other Universe, the one they never visited but knew because of many allies from there, Nate Grey and Victor and Lucas Bishop in particular. "And besides, the future is not written in stone. We know what will happen and we'll do everything in our power to prevent it."

She closes her eyes, and look in the distance, like that future, that destruction was still there and she still could see it.

"It's just… Xavier" he clenches he teeth, hoping she'll not notice it like she didn't noticed his presence earlier, because the direction this talk is taking, he isn't sure he doesn't like it. He doesn't like that his girlfriend- this woman, actually, because he has always been fond of her, even when they were merely team-mates, describe a well-known terrorist as "Eric" and her mentor by his surname. "Xavier sent us to fight for a world that fears and hates us, and since he founded the school, so many of us died to protect humanity, and at what price? What changed? Why do we keep doing what we do, when we just don't get anything in return?"

He embraces her, and wonders why she is having this breakdown now, after having been a part of their "community" for so long, never questioning before the dream. He can only guess that Lucas' betrayal is still too fresh, or that she buried too many friends in just few months' time – Piotr, Betsy, Jean, Sean, and Xavier himself among the others – and even one of her closet friends, Clint.

Or maybe, and this is what really scares him, her time undercover at Eric's service has changed her in ways no one has fathomed before, changed her so much it has shaken her belief system.

"It's important that we keep doing what we do" he starts, unsure of his words, never letting it go of her "what we do… we need to fight if for the good of… the common man. We fight because we don't want others to do so, because we don't want other people to go through what we… our people… had to endure. Not now, nor never. Someone has to take the hit, and it is better us than them."

She buries her face in his shirt, the silk of his red tie rough on her skin, but she doesn't care; she doesn't know if this is right or wrong, what he just told her, but she knows something for sure. Pete believes it. He believes it because this is why he has chosen this particular career, this is why he keeps fighting.

And maybe, for now, this is enough.


	3. PostApocalyptic: Choices

Notes: This collection of 15 short-stories is part of my contribution to the 15 genres, 1Prompt, 1 month on livejournal, connected, in my case, to the Excalibur Fandom, with special focus on Pete Wisdom, and promt aftermath; few of them will be set in my Blackdragon Universe, others will more canon.

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>Choices<p>Author: Little Firestar<br>Rating: T  
>Fandom: Excalibur (Marvel Universe)<br>Characters: Pete Wisdom/mentions of team  
>Summary: So, at the end, this is, the end of the world.<br>Spoilers: Just for Excalibur #94 (that was printed back in 1996)  
>Genre: Post-Apocalypse<p>

Note: sort of follow-up story to Broken Dream

So, at the end, this is, the end of the world, acid rain falling on them from pitch black skies never seeing the light, nor at night, total darkness embracing everything and everyone, included himself, and machines- hybrids, actually, half animals, predators, half machines, created in the Weapon Plus facilities to track down the last few human populating the planet, like in the worse Matrix movie. The horrors, they call them, the last living things besides them - the escaped from the Sentinels' camps - and it's kind of ironic, because he used to red Heart of Darkness, and was it Kurt calling it at night, just before dying? The horrors, his professor told him, was what was inside the human's heart, and what are those creatures, if not the creation of the fears of humans, of the evil and craziness who walked the planet over a decade before, when there was still life and they could still feel the sun shining on the skin?

He didn't see that coming, he has to admit, and he is quite ashamed of this, because he should have known better, and because it was supposed to be his work. He was supposed to be able to see this thing long before they could happen, know them before they could happen, but he didn't; he let this happen, even given the signals, even if Rachel and Kitty told him to look after humanity, now that Fury was no more, and all the world was left with was Pete Wisdom, last intelligence agent standing, the last hope for a planet overcome by machines of mass destruction on their way to conquer the most important Alien Empire, now that the Moon had fallen along with the Inhumans and the Watcher, the one who knew and never acted to stop such a destruction.

Sometimes, he wonders if this the reason his old pals back at Black Air broke his body, not because of his betrayal but because of his failures, his inability to see what was happening, despite everyone was begging him to stay alert, to do something about it.

But he didn't do anything, and didn't make enough attention, and that's the result.

Many of his friends have been either long buried now or - Kurt, the damn elf, fell first when the sentinels attacked the States, Amanda died few months prior the attacks, at her mother's hands, Doug Vanished, and Kitty and Piotr…. Last time he checked, he knew that they had gotten married. And that they had lost a son because of the sentinels, the sentinels, the same AI that sold Britain to Black Air, transforming it into a dark, beaten place, where nothing of what it used to be still stays.

Sometimes, studying the planet from a cold monitor, sitting in his wheelchair, looking at surveillance feeds beamed by members of the resistance without flinching, he remembers a conversation of many years prior, shared with a woman who, like almost everyone he has ever cared about, died too soon. He remembers her question, and now, after so many years, he wonders if he should have answered in a different way.

Looking back, he doesn't know.

In Birmingham, bio-engineered troops of animals track down mutant, or at least, the few of them left walking on the ground, by following their shed skin cells, at the London's bridge, bodies are left hanging at the trees until the meat slides off the bones, and somewhere else, mass graves, where black air operatives divest the bodies of the possessions and gold fillings, and the whole country sails by in a river of blood.

He used to wonder, looking at those fake images back in the day into the danger Room, images that are no more faked, if that was how London used to look like during the War. He used to not know it, now… he still doesn't know it. Because he is pretty sure it's way worse: he still remembers the images of the American take-over, and sometimes, hidden in the caves that serve as Excalibur's headquarter, he hears Betsy crying late at night.

He wonders if she knows that sometimes she sleeps, that she still dreams of the man she used to love, that she wished to have died alongside with, Warren, the Angel of the X-Men, he wonders if she remembers what she felt through her weakened psychic bond, his white wings burning into fire.

He doesn't dream any longer, even with all his regrets, he doesn't, can't afford this luxury any longer, not now, not after everything, or maybe, Karma and the others are right, and he is just an old, paranoid little man- he hopes that Brian is wrong, though, Brian, who keeps repeating he'll outlive them all - he doesn't end the sentence, doesn't end the thought, that at his side, Karma falls on the ground, passing out, crying and sobbing and in pain.

He knows what's happening, he has seen it so many times he doesn't need her explanations: her "ride" is dead- Brian's dead, and he know what it means. With Brian, Excalibur lost, and with Excalibur, the whole country lost. And he is alone.

He takes the gun he hasn't used in years from the holster, and takes a big breath, closing in his eyes, and when he pulls the trigger, his memory flights back to a red-haired woman, asking him why fighting for the dream when no one wanted for it to come true- maybe she was right, maybe Magneto was right, maybe they took the wrong decisions.

He pulls the trigger, and, miles away, bio-engineered wolves sniff his mutant blood.

He lost. Britain lost. The world is lost. And he is sick and tired of always being the last one standing.


	4. Romantic Fluff: In ten years' time

Notes: This collection of 15 short-stories is part of my contribution to the 15 genres, 1Prompt, 1 month on livejournal, connected, in my case, to the Excalibur Fandom, with special focus on Pete Wisdom, and promt aftermath; few of them will be set in my Blackdragon Universe, others will more canon.

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>Ten Years' time<p>Author: Little Firestar<br>Rating: T  
>Fandom: Excalibur (Marvel Universe)<br>Characters: Pete Wisdom/Christine Stark [OC]  
>Summary: He knows that, when he'll tell her what he saw, she'll be scared, because this is who she is, and frankly, he loves her for this reason. He isn't scared, though. Probably because he has always knows she belong with him; seeing that through Plokta's eyes just ignited his desire furthermore.<p>

Spoilers: Mention of Captain Britain and MI:13 back-issues, and of the Dark Reign, no full knowledge needed.  
>Genre: Romantic fluff<p>

There's a little thing he has never told her, he admits to himself, silently, hoping that she'll not pick up any thought wandering through his brain, his hand busy stroking her back through the rough linens on her couch, and what he never told her is that, when Plokta showed him what he truly desired, he had seen two scenes.

One was the one he had told her about – all their lost friends and beloved ones together once again, Maureen, Kitty, John and even his mother and Meggan. The other… it's a bit more complicated, even if somehow it felt incredibly right, like it was something it was supposed to be, to happen right from the start, or at least from a long time. And besides, it was quite a pleasant experience, a desire he hadn't fully acknowledged until the demon didn't show him what he didn't know he wanted more than life itself – a new life, one that, even if fake in the few moment he had been part of in the Dream Corridor, he had almost said yes to, ready to become a slave to the devil's machinations. .

It's not actually complicated, if he has to completely honest with himself- well, it is, but not for him, because, since the first time he had her in his arms, so many years prior, when she merely accepted there was sex between them and nothing more, he has always known she was destined to be part of his life, in one way or another.

(And it's better if no one knows, especially said telepath or Kitty or the elf, that sometimes he wonders if, maybe, he hasn't maybe been drown towards her even before that first time in San Francisco, when Christine felt alone and betrayed, and even the only thing he could think of, while looking at her in that thigh leather little black dress, it wasn't that she was hotter than hell, but that she had never looked more scattered, fragile and alone and broken)

The only person who could find it complicated it's the aforementioned woman- Christine Stark, mutant, superhero, genius, billionaire and philanthropist, quoting her brother (even if, Lord merciful, she doesn't add the "lady's man" line to the whole thing).

"You are thinking so much my brain is actually hurting, you know?" he feels, rather than seeing, the smile on his chest, warm and full lips upon his collarbone. He smiles in return, not full, a bit sad, but it's a smile nevertheless, and it's probably the only thing she'll get from him right now, they both know it, not after having seen what they did and the betrayal of a team-mate. "I don't know what you were thinking, but I hope it was pleasant, and, for your own good, I better be there. "

He groans as she kisses the smooth skin of his chin just to look, after, in that pool of blue that's his eyes.

"Do you think we'll be happy in the long run?" he asks her, serious, and yes, a bit sad. But it's a sadness she doesn't mind, she knows Pete, she knows how his life has been touched by tragedy and sufferance and sense of guilt, and that, given his (their) line of work, that shadow will always be there, but she knows it will never be her fault, and that he has decided to allow her, and only her, to be there to send it away, even if just a while, every now and then; it's not a burden, as much as her friends (especially Clint and Tony) think, but it's quite the opposite- a privilege. Because, being there to cast away the shadows, it means she is his anchor, she is the strong away, and that, for her, he is able to remove his mask, show the world (her) that he isn't as strong and uncaring as he desperately tries to look.

"Define long run…" Pouting, she traces invisible patterns on his still naked chest – his shirt had found residence on her torso – while she reflects on his words. What does it mean for Pete Wisdom "long run"? As far as she knows, this is the longest relationship he has been into- which is scary enough, and having him thinking about moving things onwards, it's even worse. She doesn't know if she is ready for this so called "after", doesn't know if she'll ever be, not with her relationship track-records. Well, lack of, actually, but that's another matter.

And besides, he may think he is the one broken, but reality keeps showing them otherwise, and, even if she can't say she is totally broken, at least she is… complicated, and definitely messed up; trusting someone doesn't come easy for her, harder than for him, actually, and after having been through hell and back with her husband, she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to deal with that level of intimacy, even if they do actually look like a married couple the 90% of the times they are hitting the city together.

"Well, I may mean in… let's say 10 years' time" his hands find again her hips, and he holds her, pushing her body against his own to feel every inch of this woman against every inch of his body.

Her eyebrows reach her hairline, and she quizzically looks at the man currently holding her. "Are you seriously asking me where I'm seeing myself in 10 years?" she looks at him, really looks at him, and the double entendre isn't lost to her. He isn't merely asking her where she is seeing herself in 10 years, it's more like asking for some kind of…. acknowledgment, that she thinks he'll still be a prominent part of her life in their future, and that they aren't just having fun for the sake of it, but that, besides her fugue from Osborn, there's something more behind her return to Britain.

He nods, pouting a little, a little sad, and it breaks her heart. He is a good man, a good man who never deserved the bad things that happened to him, and to know that she is the one inflicting pain to him… "Yeah, well, you know, it's just that, in Plokta's vision, we were… raising a daughter of our own and you were expecting our first son, so I think… just, you know, wondering, that's all."

"_Oh" _ she blushes, trying to hide her head in his chest. It's not like she has never thought about it, she just didn't allow herself this luxury. Her life is way too complicated right now, being one of the last 200 mutants of the planet, on the run from Norman "head of the world" Osborn, and besides… relationships? What does she know about them? Nothing, that's it, because, frankly, Tony Stark isn't exactly the poster boy for relationships.

"It's just that, I don't know, it got me thinking, that's all, you know, it kind of… ignited the whole thing."

"So…uhm, this vision of yours… what was it about?" she teases him, playing dumb, while he nuzzles the skin of her neck, affectionate but a little sad, not giving himself completely to her ,ticking the skin of her stomach with long, hot fingers, his fingertips leaving dark red spots wherever he touches, marking her with his powers like his own, at least for now.

"Oh, you know, the usual, house with garden and a white fence in some nice neighbor close to good schools here in London, a cat and a dog, average 2.1 children, two cars in the garage… that kind of stuff. Obviously, after having been the head of Intelligence for few years, and having moved up into ranks until Prime Minister, we'll have to relocate to Dawning Street, but don't worry, it will only be temporary, just a couple of legislatures- if they don't decide to make my king of England and then of the world, that it is. But then we'll have to move to Buckingham Palace, and then, I don't know, maybe Rome? Are you partial to Italy? Because I am…."

Even if he is smiling and definitely having fun, his eyes are kind of lost, faraway in the distance, and she can't help but laughing, soon joined by him. This is a side Pete rarely shows, and she takes pride in this, thinking that, maybe, just maybe, she is helping him, mending his wounds a bit each passing day (like he does with her, not that she'll never actually admit it. Sometimes, the man can be too proud for his own good).

"Well, then, as your queen, I'm demanding less plotting to take over the world, and more action, please." She rubs against all the rights spots- both of his psyche and of his body- and when he grunts in appreciation and anticipation, she takes an enormous pride in the fact that yes, she can scatter his whole world.

He gives up and kisses her, strongly holding the woman in his arms, grinning while trying to talk between kisses. "And to say that I was going to tell you that you'd be a Nobel Prize Winner…."

She smiles in the kiss, no words needed between them. He doesn't need to know she saw something alongside his vision, and he didn't need to know she definitely sees them working in the long run.


End file.
